


You Can Tell a Lot About a Man...

by KallinFrost



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, I'm lame I know, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Oh my god so much Fluff, Prompt Fic, Quote fic, Short, probably a little ooc for Peter?, the T rating is for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 03:52:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3713929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KallinFrost/pseuds/KallinFrost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights. -- Maya Angelou</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can Tell a Lot About a Man...

Lost Luggage

 

Peter had been doing so well. He’d almost made it to a full week without the urge to kill someone. “Can you _find_ my suitcase?” He growled, and Stiles, standing next to him with all of his ridiculous bright blue suitcases, six for a five-day conference, looking bored. “We’re here for a conference. My suits are all in that bag.”

“No can do.” The secretary at the luggage desk popped her gum for the umpteenth time, and Peter’s eye was starting to twitch in time with the sound. The clerk hadn't looked up from her phone once during the entire twenty minute conversation. If Stiles was bored before, he was now starting to look concerned, for the woman more than Peter. Peter was likely to lean toward claws and fangs for large inconveniences like his favorite luggage case going missing.

“Dare I ask why?” Peter asked through grit teeth.

“Not with that attitude, you don’t.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that your very important twitting or face-booking or some equally asinine pastime was being interrupted, this is only your job.” Peter had popped claws at this point, fists balled to hide them, and Stiles reached out and took his hand gently.

The effect was immediate. Peter’s shoulders lost their tension, and the wolf, so close to the fore, retreated into the background. He turned and looked at Stiles in surprise, but the younger man just smiled like he did this every day. “It’s just clothes, Peter. When we get to the hotel we can find some cheap tourist merch for you to wear in the hotel shop.” He said, and Peter growled. “I’ll even get a t-shirt and wear it with you.” He teased. “It’s not worth murdering the desk woman over.” He chastised below human hearing, but there was a fondness in the tone that said he knew Peter wouldn’t.

“Oh, joy of joys, we can at least be humiliatingly underdressed together.” Peter said dryly, but with Stiles holding his hand, he felt... grounded.

“Fine, if you can’t find it now, have it forwarded to me when it shows up.” He snapped at the desk woman, handing her a card. She twiddled her fingers in a wave mockingly, not reaching out to take it.

“Toodles, _sir_.” The way she said sir sounded an awful lot like it meant ‘asshole’, and Stiles had to drag Peter out of the airport to keep him from losing his temper.

 

~*~

 

Tangled Christmas Tree Lights

 

The Hale family had always done a quiet, but cheerful, family Christmas. The first few years, the McCall pack had no Christmas at all, too busy thwarting crazy druids, angry hunters, and a memorable holiday fighting Krampus, the german holiday demon, after Stiles accidentally summoned it.

This year, however, things had evened out, and the pack was decorating Hale loft with gusto. Peter smiled. It was nothing like he recalled, for a pack christmas; it was better that way. It wasn't tainted with memories that had turned bitterly sour. There was nothing quiet about Stiles, who danced up and down the stairs belting out christmas carols as he flung garland around the railing, and the only blood relation here was Derek, Cora having opted to go with her pack in South America for Christmas. Still, it was warm, and loving, and good.

Except for these fucking things. Peter glared waspishly as the offending fixtures, working to untangle a box of string lights that had been in the Stilinski attic since Claudia Stilinski death.

“Need some help? Stiles teased, and Peter hesitated, contemplating admitting defeat and letting Stiles do it. He never much had the patience for things like this. “Oh my god, it’s Christmas lights, not rocket science.” Stiles scoffed, flopping down beside Peter and pulling part of the box toward himself.

“I can do it,” Peter mumbled, put out at the criticism, and his eyes darted up to glare just in time to see the boy’s face soften.

“I know that, crazyflakes. I’m just messing with you.” He soothed, a curiously fond quality to the statement. Peter caught himself smiling, unexpectedly, a warmth spreading through his chest. “If it’s a matter of pride, now, I can go back to hall-decking and christmas caroling.” He said, starting to stand, and Peter’s hand flashed out almost of it’s own accord. When he realized what he’d done, he pulled his hand back as casually as he could manage and cleared his throat.

“Anything to keep from hearing you warble jingle-bell rock again.” He said, trying for caustic or snide and failing in both. Stiles grinned and sat back down.

“Shut up, wolfman, you love me.” He accused, and Peter was glad the younger man was absorbed in a tangle and didn’t see him blanche. It was beginning to strike him he couldn’t well deny it.

 

~*~

 

A Rainy Day

 

“Let’s take a walk.” Peter doesn’t look away from the window, where water patters softly at the panes like kitten paws. It  is mid April, and Peter is looking forward to flowers in may, as it hasn’t stopped raining for a week and a half in short bursts. Stiles, ever the hothouse orchid, was miserable without the sun. And Stiles miserable was loud.

“Peter, it’s pouring.” Stiles whines, but he puts down his book and started looking for his jacket, so Peter smiles and waits. When he’s gathered his hoodie and his shoes, Peter holds the door for him. “You might invest in a waterproof coat, you know.” He chides, just to see the glare Stiles gives him. He does not disappoint, a moue of distaste showing almost immediately. He steps out without another word on the subject.

“Why are we walking in the rain?” Stiles was getting impatient, now that they’d walked about a block in no particular direction and with no destination, and Peter smiled.

“I’ve never kissed someone in the rain,” he says, and Stiles has a moment to look confused before he swoops in, pressing their lips together chastely. When he pulls away, Stiles is blushing and sputtering.

“Oh my god, you shmoop,” Stiles accuses, but he’s grinning, and Peter counts it as a win. 

**Author's Note:**

> I know this might be a little rushed, I wrote it at work while I was bored, and decided to throw it up. :) Still, I hope you enjoyed it!  
> Comments feed the author. TELL MEEEEE.
> 
> And come bug me on Tumblr,   
> kyblogslife.tumblr.com


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